


Mark Blackthorn and The Struggle For Straight Os

by SkittlesAddict



Category: Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Hogwarts AU, Kierark, M/M, Maran - Freeform, Mieran
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-05 02:46:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6686062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkittlesAddict/pseuds/SkittlesAddict
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark Blackthorn wants straight Os in his O.W.Ls, but his Herbology grade is drifting towards a T. With the help of his teacher, Professor Longbottom, Mark enlists the help of brilliant Herbologist Kieran Hunter. </p><p>Kieran is a stubborn Ravenclaw who is desperate to impress his father after being the only son to evade Slytherin. At a teacher's request, he starts to tutor a Hufflepuff in his Herbology class for extra credit points.</p><p>With magic, fun, and a few (somewhat) homosexual hijinks, Mark and Kieran develop a bond neither boy could have foreseen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hot Tutors

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: These lovely characters belong Cassandra Clar and J K Rowling respectively.

"Mark? Would you mind staying after class?" Professor Neville Longbottom asked, as Mark's fourth mandrake escaped his grasp and ran around the classroom screaming at the top of its lungs. Mark, having misplaced his earmuffs, winced.

"Did you see, Professor? I nearly had him that time!" Mark said with a huge grin, wincing as the mandrake crescendoed. He rummaged around in his mess of a rucksack before, at last, producing the earmuffs.

Neville sighed. In all his (six) years of teaching Herbology, he had never taught a student that was quite like Mark.

"Just... just see me after class, please, Mr. Blackthorn." He sighed, moving on to one of his less disastrous students.

*****

"You wanted to see me, sir?" asked the prodigal student himself, swinging his bag from shoulder to shoulder and sporting that ridiculously wide smile that Hufflepuffs were famous for. Mark was a good student, Neville thought. Just _not_ at Herbology.

"Mark, you've seen your grades recently. Are you sure that you're prepared for your O.W.Ls?" Neville asked, trying to get to the point. There were rumours of Jaffa Cakes in the staff room today, and he planned to find out during his free period.

The easy smile slipped off Mark's face. He sighed.

"Sir, I know what you mean - but I am trying, I swear I am!" Mark protested weakly. Neville looked at the boy, and knew that he couldn't just kick him out of the classroom (as he had intended). It looked like the Jaffa Cakes would have to wait.

"Mr. Blackthorn, may I suggest you find a tutor? Your effort certainly speaks for itself, but perhaps it would be easier for you to learn from someone your own age," Neville suggested. Mark's face lit up momentarily at the idea, before a shadow was cast over it again.

"That sounds great, sir, only... only I haven't the Galleons, you see, and I can't afford it," Mark took a sudden interest in his shoes and leaned back onto one of the tables, gently swinging his legs. "I've got five younger half-siblings and a foster-sister at home, as well as Helen, and my dad and step-mum are Muggles. We're not well-off. I'm sort of supposed to fend for myself here."

Neville smiled kindly, although his thoughts may have been somewhat preoccupied with the though of biscuits. "I've got an idea, Mr Blackthorn. Why don't you stop worrying about things out of your control, and I'll take care of the tutor. How does that sound, my boy?"

Mark smiled, hope in his eyes, but didn't allow himself to speak lest he make a fool of himself. "Then it's settled. Now run along to lunch, Mr Blackthorn! I have places to be!" Neville ordered, and watched as the fifteen-year old scrambled up and scurried across the halls. Neville sighed; perhaps the staffroom would have a few crumbs leftover? At the very least a Jammy Dodger had to be waiting.

*****

True to his word, Neville had set up an appointment in the library. Mark had been given a name but had no idea who the boy actually _was_. Probably a snooty Ravenclaw, he thought, before chastising himself for judging. He sported a famous Hufflepuff smile and began to walk over to the table where they had agreed to meet, before stopping dead in his tracks.

God, he was _breath-taking_. Beautiful in one of the rare ways that a boy could be, beautiful like the cutting edge of a knife. His hair was dyed some colour between blue and black and curled, in small wisps, to frame his face. Since Mark had come out to his friends as bisexual, he had been far more comfortable noticing boys. But this one was really something else. 

And yes, he was definitely a Ravenclaw - the familiar blue and silver scarf was slung around his neck and tied neatly. It was while Mark was admiring the knotting of the scarf (his own was constantly a tangle) that he tripped over his own feet with a  _crash_ _._  

He'd hit his head off the corner of the table where  _that boy_ was sitting, and the combined embarrassment and pain made him wince. While he was nursing his injuries, Mark hadn't noticed the inviting hand in front of his face until the _owner_ of the hand cleared his throat. His  _very masculine_ throat.

The boy cleared his throat again, and Mark grabbed the hand and pulled himself up. The boy smiled at him warmly, though it didn't reach his guarded eyes. Mark scrambled to introduce himself.

"Hi! I'm, uh, I'm Mark. Are you my tutor? Uh..." Mark trailed off, panicking, because he realised suddenly that he couldn't actually remember the guy's name. He decided to try anyway. "Killian?"

The half-smile that the boy had disappeared, replaced with something between a smirk and a frown. 

"It's Kieran. And you're late," Kieran nearly-growled (honest-to-God, with gritted teeth and everything!) and Mark cowered back, his Hufflepuff issued smile shrinking by the minute.

And oh God - Mark was certainly screwed, because if there was thing he knew it was that he was no good at functioning when pretty boys were angry at him. 

Much less studying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! If you've reached this far, thanks. After the lovely support my last attempt at a Mieran oneshot, I'm trying to write a short fanfiction about the pair based in Hogwarts. Feel free to let me know if I should continue in the comments!


	2. Just Friends

Surprisingly, Kieran was a good teacher - patient and slow and kind. Mark felt his cheeks burn in pride whenever he was presented with one of Kieran's goodnatured smiles. 

He did notice that Kieran murmured things under his breath sometimes. There was nothing vicious or nasty about the action, Mark just couldn't understand whatever foreign language he was speaking. 

(Was it French? It was probably French. Mark didn't know - he'd never heard French.)

By the end of the session, Mark understood far more Herbology than he had before. He thanked Kieran profusely, and they arranged another meeting. 

The cycle continued, until Mark was achieving straight Es in Herbology with Kieran's help. They were partners in class now, and Mark was helping Kieran in Potions. 

Sometimes he wondered if Kieran was aware of the massive crush Mark had on him. There were subtle signs - stares that lasted too long, touches that lingered for an extra fraction of a second. 

Regardless, Mark kept quiet and Kieran behaved as he always had. Nice. Quiet. Diligent. 

Outside of study sessions, they had developed a friendship too - Kieran always came to Mark's Quidditch games in Hufflepuff colours, even when matches were against his own house. Mark learnt that Kieran loved music and dancing but hated Slytherin. Not the wizards of the house, just the house itself. 

"I was meant to be a Slytherin," Kieran admitted one relaxed day outside. They were sat near the boundary to the Forbidden Forest in the shade of the trees under some pretence of study. "All my brothers are. But I asked the Sorting Hat to put me somewhere else,  _anywhere_ else, and it put me in Ravenclaw."

"Does it matter? I mean, you're happy, aren't you Kier?" Mark asked his friend. Kieran sighed. 

" _I'm_ happy, but my dad wanted me to be like the others. It's in the family, see, and I still speak Parseltongue and all. I hate it, though. I hate the idea of being another carbon copy of my dad," Kieran focused his gaze on a tree opposite, his eyes ablaze in fury. 

"I'm sorry, Kier," Mark apologised, and tried to comfort his friend by resting a hand on his lower thigh. Kieran stilled at the touch, then stared at it in near-disbelief. 

Mark quickly realised his mistake, how that was a bit  _too_ platonic, and went to retract his hand. Kieran stopped him, covered Mark's hand with his own. They say in silence for a few minutes. 

Mark's throat kept catching, and he felt an overwhelming wave of sympathy for the Ravenclaw. Suddenly, Kieran found himself swept up in a hug. Mark gripped him tightly, and Kieran carefully placed his arms around his friend. 

Kieran tried to say something, _anything_ , but the dinner bell rang and Mark scrambled to his feet with a hasty goodbye. Dinners were the worst, because the pair had to sit separately unless they were dating.

Which they weren't, Kieran hurried to remind himself. Because Mark didn't like him  _like that._

And he was probably straight, anyway.

 

*****

 

On a Friday morning just before the Christmas holidays, not long after the boys' heart-to-heart, Christmas presents started to arrive by owl. 

Mark was going home for Christmas. Kieran was not. 

Two owls brought mail for him that day. The first was Barnes, Helen's owl, bringing letters from the children and Helen. His older sister had sent a large bar of Cadburys chocolate, and had even extended an invitation for Kieran to stay over the holidays. Mark couldn't wait to tell him. 

The second was shorter, from an owl Mark would've recognised anywhere. It's blue-black feathers almost perfectly matched its owner's hair. The hastily scribbled note simply read,  _Lake. Tonight at 11. Please._

It was from Kieran, that much was certain. The "please" was uncharacteristic, so Mark knew it must have been important. 

He would go, obviously, because even if it was against the rules to go out after hours he would still be with Kieran. Mark itched to give Kieran his answer during class, and also tell him he could stay over the holidays, so he wolfed down his breakfast and hurried to class. 

Kieran wasn't in Potions. Nor was he in Charms, Transfiguration, Divination or any other subjects. Even Neville asked Mark where he was during Herbology.

"Mr. Blackthorn? Have you seen Mr. Hunter today?" Neville asked, frowning. 

"No I haven't, sorry, sir," Mark replied meekly. He hadn't been able to concentrate all day, nearly sick with worry, and had caused one of his plants to shrivel up and die because of it. 

By dinner, Kieran still wasn't in sight. Rumour swept the Great Hall that he'd been expelled, suspended, or had gone home early. Mark hoped none of these were true, and prepared for the nights activities regardless. 

When his digital watch read _22:45_ , Mark hopped out of bed and crept down to the common room (without waking anyone - what a Hufflepuff!). He wore a knitted jumper that his friend Cristina had bought him over his pyjamas, and walking boots from the muggle world. Mark had also brought the chocolate bar Helen had sent, hidden in his pocket.

Heart pounding, Mark snuck down, down, out of the school building towards the lake. His footsteps were quiet, and he walked only by the light of his wand. 

Finally, Mark reached the lake and saw him. Kieran - he was _safe_! Kieran smiled as he saw him, and Mark wrapped his friend in a ~~very gay~~ totally platonic hug. When he stepped back, he took his first proper look at Kieran's beautiful face. 

His beautiful, damaged face. 

"Kier? What happened to your eye?"


	3. By The Lake

Kieran visibly swallowed. He gently traced the outline of the bruise around his eye, wincing slightly. 

" _Lumos_ ," Mark whispered, using his wand's light to get a better look.

He looked  _awful_. There was a cut on his cheek that had barely closed over, and a painful looking black eye. His nose appeared to be broken. Mark's heart sank. 

"Kier..." Mark's voice dropped and he took a step towards Kieran. With practised fingers Mark checked all of Kieran's injuries. This wasn't just the Hufflepuff in him - Kieran was Mark's friend, and Mark didn't want to see him in pain. 

"I - I can explain," Kieran said eventually, his voice breaking halfway through the sentence. He didn't sound awfully convinced. Mark nodded absentmindedly.

" _Nox_ ," Mark crooned. " _Episkey_."

Kieran's relatively minor injuries (his black eye, the cut, various bruises) healed immediately. His nose stayed broken. 

Mark thought for a moment, trying to remember the right spell, before it came to him suddenly and he hurried to use it. 

" _Brackium Emendo_ ," Mark said, and the nose realigned itself correctly. Kieran winced again, rubbing his nose.

"I, uh, thanks Mark," Kieran wouldn't look him in the eyes. "Sorry."

Mark suddenly remembered the chocolate bar in his pocket. Hadn't Professor Lupin told him that chocolate counteracted minor Dark Magic?

"Here," Mark said, handing Kieran the bar of chocolate. Just in case. 

Kieran's eyes lit up and he tore open the packaging, cramming four or five squares of chocolate into his mouth at once. He turned to Mark. 

"Want some?"

(Well, it actually came out as  _Mfff mmmm?_ because Kieran's mouth was full, but Mark could guess what he meant.)

Mark shook his head. He'd lost his appetite. 

The boys sat in a friendly silence, as Kieran demolished the chocolate bar. (He loved muggle chocolate. Always had. Mark gave it to him as often as he could get it.)

The moonlight reflected off the lake and made Kieran's skin look ethereal, his eyes seeming to be two different colours; one as silver as the moonlight, one as black as midnight.

It was Mark who eventually broke the silence. 

"What happened?" He asked, looking at his watch. It was after midnight. "Who did that to you?"

Kieran sighed, drumming his fingers on his leg for a moment before speaking. 

"Some of my, uh, _brothers_. The Slytherins. They ambushed me on my way to breakfast today. Well, yesterday, I guess. I was with Madame Pomfrey," Kieran admitted. He bit his lip (and if Mark hadn't been worried about his friend then he would have been turned on because it was definitely Kieran's _sexiest_ nervous habit).

"Why? Why did they hurt you?" Mark pushed, knowing that he may not want to hear the answer. Kieran leaned into him, his head on Mark's shoulder as he answered.

"Because... because... because I'm an embarrassment to our family," Kieran blurted out. Mark felt an overwhelming wave of pity, and also a not-very-Hufflepuff anger targeted at Kieran's brothers.

"Wha - Kier, how could you say that? You're not, of course you're not," Mark rushed to comfort him, pulling Kieran closer with an arm around his shoulders. It felt like his side was on fire, anywhere that Kieran's beautiful body touched burned - but in a good way. In the best way. 

"I am, though," Kieran protested. "I'm a Ravenclaw, and..."

"And?" Mark prompted him. Kieran was silent for a moment, before a bubble of truth seemed to rise up in his throat.

"And I'm a fucking poofter, alright?!" Kieran almost-shouted. His body was tense, but he made no move to leave his comfortable position with Mark.

Mark turned his head very slightly, just enough that Kieran had to move his own and look at Mark. Kieran had that look in his eyes, the universal _kiss me_ look. Mark, although he did not know it, had the same.

He leaned in to kiss Kieran and Kieran, after a moment of surprise, turned his face up and met Mark's lips with his. 

It was the first time either boy had ever been kissed, but in the light of the silver moon there seemed to be no consequences, no future, just that moment. Mark felt tears on both of their faces, and he didn't know if they were his or not.

Mark had read about how you were supposed to kiss people, but it was so different when you were actually doing it - running on pure instinct. Magazines couldn't explain it, how it felt to be utterly at peace. Kieran's lips were soft, so soft, and the kiss was so gentle as if both boys thought the other coils melt at any second.

Kieran's eyes were closed, almost as if he thought he was dreaming. Mark couldn't bear to face reality, to talk about anything and everything. 

So they kissed and kissed and kissed until they fell asleep on the shores of the lake, and there they stayed until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> I'd just like to say that there is a slur in this chapter, "poofter", but my reason for using it is that Kieran would have heard it from his brothers. I don't condone the use of any such term against anyone.
> 
> More to come!


	4. Author's Note

Sorry to anyone who still had hope for this - I've spent too long away from it, and I'm not sure what I had in mind anymore! If anyone wants to continue it instead, leave a comment below. 


End file.
